Monday, August 09, 2004

Doomsday approaches . . .

So if things went as originally planned, Brian would be flying home this Thursday, he'd move his stuff in, and we'd be packing for a week down the shore before school starts. Now he is going to be flying back while I am at the beach. The asshole actually asked me- yeah so do you think I could come over to get my stuff after work on Friday- NO asshole- I am going to be down the shore that week- remember asshole? Remember how we planned it out so that you could come with us? Obviously not.

And so I guess I will be seeing him when I get back from the beach. I have this week to get my shit together, not put off any left over "moving in" because when I get back from the beach my new roommate will be there too. I have to make sure I've combed out every last sock and pair of underpants from my things before he gets there so that hopefully after it's all done I never have to see him again.

And I can't wait to see him. It's like in Mortal Kombat when the dudes reach into the other dudes' body and rip out their heart- I feel like his fist is clenched on my heart and holding it stationary and partially mobile. I feel like I need to see him in front of my face, and then maybe his grip will loosen and he'll let go. I just want my heart back, beating, out of his control. Either way there's nothing more true than the fact that my blood is on his hands, even when he holds her hands. But he won't let me go until it is convenient for him. It is all so convenient for him. Fuck my life, my plans, my schedule. So long as everything works out so he can move on, but funny enough he already has. He's like heroin for a heroin addict. I want him more than anything in the world but I know he only exists in my world to destroy me. Tool wrote some lyrics fitting for who he is in the song "Sober"
I am just a worthless liar.
I am just an imbecile.
I will only complicate you.
Trust in me and fall as well.
I will find a center in you.
I will chew it up and leave,

Trust me. Trust me. Trust me. Trust me. Trust Me.

I want what I want.
I want what I want.
I want what I want.
I want what I want.

And happily enough as I hauled my fucking mattress to my apartment, a truck was driving right along side me for much of the trip, in front of me just enough so I could read the back window where bid red cursive letters spelling "Ashley" colored my view. Ashley is the whoreface's name. So yeah, it was really entertaining.

Interruption- I see a naked woman out my window across the street. I think she lives there. She's really pale and drinking milk. What the hell?

Back to blog. So he wrote all these emails to a friend apparantly about how he felt about our situation before dumping me- thinking it over. I am so fucking insanely pissed that for all he was telling his friend he never told me anything. It really is like dating a high school kid- I mean he owed it to me to tell me all that he told his friend and its insane that he never communicated any of it to me. Why can't a fucking asteroid fall on him? Is it too much to ask for a crater right where he stands at this very moment?

The weekend was alright. I got to see my friend Tom on Friday. Interesting fact I never knew about him till then- he and his uncle designed and patented a highway in Chicago. Hmm. And then I went home and hung out with Dara and at my sister's. Had to bring the mattress home anyways. And I bought a digital camera which I think will pimp out this blog once I get it up n rollin. Plus I went to this "pajama party" at this bar in Roxbury called Mo's or whatever.

Me at Mo's partying suburban-style, attractive- huh? Especially with the red demon eyes and vampire mouth- you gotta want to kick it with that . . .
It was ok. Me and Dara did not wear pajamas. But we saw some old friends. For anyone who knows Elissa and Bobby- you've got to hear this bit of sweetness:

He rented a room at the Plaza in NYC for Elissa's "graduation" from college. Then they went on a carriage ride in Central Park to Tavern on the Green for dinner, and on the carriage he proposed to her- and they've been going out for years and a while back she kind of said a ring she liked to him- and he got her a ring like 2 times the size the one she wanted. Now I think it's all incredibly sweet, he isn't loaded, doesn't have all that much money I don't think- but he worked really hard and saved up. Now I don't think it's important that a man spend lots of money on his lady- but it really means something if you work really hard and it makes you happy to blow a bunch of cash on her- because it just shows that you put her before all things practical- and that you don't mind working your ass off just to make her feel special- and I like his whole old-school traditional theme. I guess to me it's more about effort than cash.

And I got Jay-Z's black album this weekend. Half of the tracks blow me away and they are really quite great, but the other half just cater to the commercial TRL bullshit taste- and they suck. Dammit Jay-Z.

One last lyrical note, he once sent these song lyrics to me from the band "Postal Service":

i'll be the grapes fermented, bottled and
served with the table set in my finest suit
like a perfect gentleman.
i'll be the fire escape that's bolted to the
ancient brick where you will sit and
contemplate your day.

i'll be the waterwings that save you if you
start drowning in an open tab when your
judgement's on the brink.
i'll be the phonograph that plays your favorite
albums back as your lying there drifting off
to sleep.
i'll be the platform shoes and undo what
heredity's done to you: you won't have to
strain to look into my eyes.
i'll be your winter coat buttoned and zipped
straight to the throat with the collar up so
you won't catch cold.

i want to take you far away from the cynics in this
town and kiss you on the mouth.
we'll cut our bodies free from the tethers of
this scene, start a brand new colony
where everything will change, we'll give
ourselves new names (identities erased.)
the sun will heat the ground under our bare
feet in this brand new colony.
everything will change...


No comments: